


Loss That Burns

by applepieisworthit



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I suppose I should apologise for this, Modern AU, Soooo I had sudden inspiration for a sad story..., and as always I stole Frís and Hrera from dets, major character deaths, someone burned down their house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applepieisworthit/pseuds/applepieisworthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dís carries on watching with tired eyes as what is left of her family slowly breaks apart and wonders if anything will ever heal the wounds left by the deaths of her mother, grandmother and brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss That Burns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts), [Scientist_Salarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientist_Salarian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



> So I have the wonderful Dets to thank for Frís and Hrera and I have The Desolation of Smaug to thank for the line "You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us", which is the line that inspired me to write this (short) story.

The smoke chokes Thorin and burns his eyes but he stands and forces himself to watch as the remains of the large family house burn to cinders. Dís stands beside him, her trembling fingers wrapped around his shaking hands.

 

They both have tears streaming down their faces as they watch what is left of their family be torn apart.

 

Thráin is on his knees before them, facing the remains of the once grand house, his head buried in Frerin’s chest and his shoulders heaving, the breath whooshing from him in loud, uneven huffs. He has spent the last half an hour screaming and shouting as they watch their family burn, helpless to do anything to stop it.

 

His burnt hands hold Frerin’s lifeless form to his chest and tears make thick tracks in the grime caked over his face.

 

They had pulled up into their driveway just as the worst of the flames engulfed the house and none of them had been able to stop Frerin rushing in to try to save Frís and Hrera. By the time Thráin had pushed his way through the house, Thrór at his back, Frerin was past saving, having inhaled vast amounts of smoke and carbon monoxide.

 

They had found his small body curled shaking around Frís’ broken body, his hands grasping at her clothes and his mouth wide open as he shrieks endlessly for someone, anyone, to save his mum.

 

Thráin had wept as he pulled his barely resisting, half-conscious youngest son out of the house and Thrór had staggered out behind him, both coughing up smoke and choking back sobs.

 

The fire brigade and the police had been called, but neither had been able to do anything to save the already dead Frís and Hrera. Thorin watches in horrified silence as Thráin and Thrór cling to each other when the paramedics arrive to try to save Frerin. Everyone knows that there is nothing to be done for Frerin, just as there was nothing to be done for Frís or Hrera.

 

The fire stole all of their lives too early, much too early.

 

Dís is the most stoic, she had barely resisted when Thorin held her back from running after Thráin and Thrór, as if knowing that there was no need for her to try anything, and now she stands in silence, her hands curled into fists, silent tears making tracks down her once-soft face and witnesses as her father and grandfather scream and sob and her brother digs gouges out of the soft mud to fling in his anger and shouts his pleas to the heavens for someone to bring back his mama, his grandma, his little baby brother; still so small and half-grown at only twelve.

 

Dís is also the first to notice their neighbour Thranduil watching from the side-lines. Her eyes narrow as she takes into account his pristine appearance and the way he watches them like the unfolding tragedy that their family is experiencing is for his own amusement. Thorin is the next to notice and before Dís can do anything to stop him he is marching over to the fence that separates their gardens and confronting Thranduil.

 

A heated argument ensues as Thorin accuses Thranduil of standing and doing nothing whilst their family died and Thranduil does nothing to excuse himself. “You lack all honour! How long have been standing here watching!? Long enough to save them? You could have saved my mother! My grandmother! You could have stopped any chance of baby brother running in and sacrificing himself! Did you call the fire brigade?! Did you try to stop the flames from ruining their lives?? Our lives! Did you do anything but sit there on your pompous arse and deliberate over the loss of life happening right beside you?!”

 

“Come now boy. Do you really mean to imply that I would ever stand aside and let your mother and grandmother…” Thorin practically has steam billowing from his ears and Dís can only stand aside as he starts again.

 

“You don’t get to lie to me Thranduil! You turned away from the suffering of my family... and the inferno that _destroyed_ them.” Thorin may have carried on for a long time if Thráin had not come over and gently steered his eldest away from the fence.

 

Dís carries on watching with tired eyes as what is left of her family slowly breaks apart and wonders if anything will ever heal the wounds left by the deaths of her mother, grandmother and brother.

 

She doesn’t speak again.


End file.
